video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[vorrutyer]

[ Unlike any of Byerly’s previous posts, which consisted of him monologuing interminably, this post looks to be a dialogue. There are actually two people on screen - Byerly’s lanky, elegant, sloe-eyed self, and next to him a small odd-looking fellow with intense features and a too-large head set on a hunched spine. For all the differences between them, though, the two look like they could be brothers, or at least cousins - similar noses, similar bone structure, similar skin tone, similar hair color. Ah, the products of Barrayaran inbreeding.

You can tell who set up the camera by the framing. Byerly is centered, and sitting at an angle that best shows off his fine features. Miles Vorkosigan, the small fellow, is squished off into a corner of the frame. By is the first to speak, too. ]

Bonsoir, lovely fellows and ladies. Your bosom friend and brother Byerly here with an important announcement. Though you have known me as His Imperial Majesty Byerly II of Barrayar, now I’m just plain By, because my position has been usurped. [ A fake mournful sigh. ] Brutal civil war. Deadly. Horrible. I’ve been dealt a monstrous blow.

[ Miles, meanwhile, just kind of rolls his eyes skyward. Spare him from his cousin’s melodrama. ] If by “usurped” you mean “assumed rightful authority,” then yes. I usurped you. With little resistance, I might add. [ A pause; he straightens his small frame as best he can - not that it’s especially effective given the camera angle. ] Did you really go around calling yourself His Imperial Majesty Byerly II?

But of course. [ Byerly blinks in mock-innocence. ] Sire, don’t tell me that you don’t see the Imperial office as worthy of respect. I was simply demanding the dignity due to the camp stool.

Is it more dignified to lose it to a civil war too? [ Miles arches a brow in turn. ] I could fight you, I suppose.

Oh, please don’t do that, sire. [ By’s expression is a reasonable approximation of pained. ] I don’t want to hurt you. He’s very fragile, you see. [ The last is said conspiratorially to the audience, as though Miles couldn’t hear. And, swiftly, before he can be executed for treason - ] So I wished to introduce my dear sometime-cousin and current-overlord to the network, as a grand announcement of an enormous life change, and an announcement that I will of course be hosting a coronation party for him.

-- What?

[ There’s not even the slightest twinkle of amusement in Byerly’s face; he looks perfectly solemn as he explains - ]

It is, of course, customary for those invited to a coronation to bring gifts of tribute. I would not presume to speak for my lord Emperor, but I might suggest gifts of alcohol. Or something a little harder than alcohol? A fellow does grow tired of only being drunk, and the Emperor is quite a fan of stimulants, which is why you’ll hear him babble endlessly, all the time. Would that suit you, sire?

[ Miles has been working his mouth like a frog in the background this whole time; he still sputters a moment, staring at Byerly in disbelief. ] I never agreed to a party, By -- [ He interrupts himself with a beautiful stream of cursing in Greek. ] For god’s sake, that won’t be necessary.

[ Loudly, speaking over his Emperor - ] That sounds like a yes to me! I’ll see you all tomorrow night. [ And with a wink, he cuts the feed. ]


[ ooc: blue is Byerly, red is Miles ]

Comments

[vorrutyer]

[ Fondly: ]

Revenge.

The Emperor's Own means that they're a force sworn to the Emperor.

[dendarii]

[ Oh. Miles makes an apologetic face. ]

And Counts - or Count's heirs, which I was at the time - are not permitted to gather potential armies, even when they have no intention of using them anywhere near Barrayar. The traditional remedy is tying down the offender in the square to die of exposure.

[vorrutyer]

[ That earns a little laugh. ]

Good heavens, is it really? Ah, our blessed homeland.

[priorly]

On each page of the tourist brochure, a new delight. The local square, though. How social.

[Byerly has shared enough stories to more or less cauterize Prior's ability to be shocked by most of what Barrayar has to offer. It's in his mind like a grim little fairytale, somewhere the wolves wait in the woods and grandmothers fence their houses with bones.]

Though I can understand being twitchy about keeping the relatives in line. Oaths can't work for everyone.

[dendarii]

[ That's not so far from the truth, anyway. Barrayar is a harsh place by any measure. ]

Mm, well. In theory a Barrayaran's word is legally binding. In practice ... it's as you say. We are human in the end. And Gregor had every right to execute me if he truly thought I was trying to claim power from him.

[vorrutyer]

What Miles isn't telling you in discussion of the mortal peril he was in is that Gregor is essentially his brother.

[dendarii]

[ Miles twitches a bit at that implication. He loves Gregor with all his heart, truly. But. ]

He was also newly coronated. Facing his first decision truly independent of my father. It could have swung either way.

[priorly]

[Prior's been nodding along to this, adding offhand.] Still, he doesn't really seem the fratricidal type. So. You have the qualification, and after two thousand men, this [Hi Byerly] must be a step down. There won't be any town square demonstrations here, I assume, even for the warm comfort of tradition.

[vorrutyer]

[ Mildly: ]

Unless I lead an insurrection. Although in that case - the tradition would be dismemberment instead.

[dendarii]

Just so. I would expect nothing less.

[ Said utterly deadpan. No indication whatsoever that he's joking. ]

[priorly]

Mm. [He's not actually taken in, but nontheless:] Did Byerly tell you I'm a queen?

[This is delivered equally without indication that it shouldn't be taken seriously.]

[vorrutyer]

Heavens.

[ He claps a hand to his chest. ]

I just realized - I'm the only non-royalty in the house.

[dendarii]

[ Miles, meanwhile, turns his head back towards Prior. Taking him seriously, but disbelieving too. ]

A queen? Howso?

[priorly]

[Prior tuts lightly at Byerly.] Hush a minute, baby, I'm making a point.

[He stands to take his glass to the sink, and the limp doesn't show. Speaking with his back turned-]

It's a position won through trials of fire, and few of us last the course. We're queens of a people long oppressed, battle scarred and bloodied but unbowed. We live with the worst odds and throw the best parties. We live despite everything that thinks we shouldn't. What I'm saying, Miles, is I know well enough how to end people. And whatever oaths you two have between you, he has mine. So rule with care.

[a glance over his shoulder - a sweet smile.]

And we'll be friends.

[vorrutyer]

[ That. That takes Byerly entirely by surprise. He's quiet, and still, his face immobile and guarded as he tries to work his way through that. He's...never had a defense like that before. And he knows he should be pushing back against it - because Miles is his liege lord - but he's never...Not since he was a young man, and his sister came furiously to his defense. Not a single time since then, he thinks.

So for once, Byerly is just...silent. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles, meanwhile, doesn't quite get it. Blame his obliviousness, blame his aggressive insistence on heterosexuality, or perhaps some mix of both. But he doesn't realize what, precisely Prior is defending - though he can see its effect on Byerly, and he can certainly see that Prior means every word. ]

.... What do you think I am going to do, precisely?

[ Help his stupid, ostensibly straight self out please. ]

[priorly]

[The glass is washed and set down. This isn't about sexuality, Miles, a straight boy can pick this up.]

Oh, I don't think you're going to do anything, precisely. But most people think this whole emperor and oath thing is showy nonsense. Meaningless. And it's not, right? To either of you.

[The thing is, Miles, Prior knows that taking the mantle of emperor has been an exercise in self-flagellation for Byerly. And thank god, perhaps, someone's finally come to pull the whip hand away. Maybe Byerly can absolve himself of a fragment of responsibility, while no doubt working every marionette string graspable.

But the oaths carved under his skin are a serious affliction and in the end what Miles asks of him, Byerly will do. So the warning is simply to ask wisely. Power's easy to abuse, and so are people, sometimes with even the best of intentions.]

So I'm just asking that you make sure future diktats, if there are any, are carefully thought through. [A moment.] And to tell me your colors - I can't throw a party without a theme.

[dendarii]

[ Ah. No missing that message, no. He straightens his small, twisted body as tall as it will go, his gray eyes clear and bright. No despot he. For all that he and Byerly bicker, Miles would never knowingly demand something of his cousin that he truly thought would hurt the man.

That doesn't save him from the effects of those intentions, mind. But at least his heart is in the right place. ]

Of course. That is my - that is Our duty. We will not make demands on Byerly that would harm him. Our word as Vorkosigan.

[ He means it, heart and soul. Which would be a great effect and all, maybe, but he. Uh. Stops at that last question. ]

Brown and silver?

[vorrutyer]

[ By knows he ought to snap at Prior. He ought to scold him for trying to defend him, a Vor lord - and to defend him from his liege, when Prior is an outsider who knows nothing of Barrayaran tradition and law. But he doesn't snap. He can't. He just fiddles with his spoon, and feels impossibly, obscurely awkward, and impossibly and obscurely warm.

God, how humiliating. Miles would never let him live this one down. He would never let him live it down, if he were Miles. ]

Your colors, sire, not just your House colors.

[ His voice is just a touch unsteady. ]

Brown and silver is a hideous combination.

[ And what of Miles, then? Our word as Vorkosigan. Would Vorkosigan truly take his duties seriously? If By has the measure of the boy...Yes. He will. ]

[priorly]

[Anyone that did think it was meaningless nonsense would change their minds hearing a boy flick to the royal we like duty was a weight that needed the combined shoulders of man and status to bear. He's a boy king with one subject but the title has a gravity to it outside that small orbit.

And Prior's satisfied with the response. Though absolutely not by those colours.]

Brown really isn't a celebratory shade, nobody reasonable associates brown with a good time.

[dendarii]

[ The fact that Prior sees the need to protect Byerly at all is mostly just saddening to Miles. All the moreso because Byerly could very well need it, genuinely. If Miles were someone else ... There is much he could do to hurt Byerly as Emperor. Much he could demand.

Well, that won't be an issue. Not if he has any say in it. Although - some of that regality drains out of him at the discussion of his house colors, ugh. ]

Brown and silver is a perfectly fine combination. Silver only if you must, I guess. Just not black and silver.

[priorly]

[It seems to Prior as though there's already been much demanded of Byerly, though as ever it's hard to tell how much of the burden is self-imposed. One elbow propped on the edge of the sink (subtle support) he splays the other hand out wide, miming the burst of inspiration striking.]

Black and silver. I could appropriate that star cloth from work, for an interstellar touch.

[dendarii]

[ Miles flinches bodily at that. Sorry Prior, house colors are super a thing. ]

No, not black and silver together. Any combination but that, please.

[priorly]

[Oh but that's fascinating.]

Ooh, but who has the black and silver? Painful ex? No - don't tell me - your house has sworn blood vengeance after theirs left you with the brown.

[dendarii]

Of course none of those things. They're Vorbarra colors. Gregor's. I may be Emperor, but I don't dare pretend to be a Vorbarra.

[ Technically, he's leaning on the Vorbarra part of his own family for his own relevance to the throne, though he and Gregor Vorbarra are quite distant cousins. Vor family trees are painfully intertwined. ]